Don't You Dare Make A Sound!
by XGerfuls GaloreX
Summary: Apparently it's some kind of Middle Ages with a murder plot that doesn't go as planned (do they ever?) and boat trips where people are likely to trip. There will be sword fights but there won't be romance, and there's a guarantee of adventure! Keep in mind that this is a work of fanfiction, so at some point or another, you'll be reading about flying pink elephants. T for death.
1. Nile's a mercenary?

Hey everyone! it's been a while, but since it's summer, here's a new story! It'll be multichapter and there won't be beyfights, but most characters will be able to do a limited version of their special moves. The idea is to put as much of the cast as possible in a medieval setting. i'm not going to pay any attention at all to time periods, so there might be some srious time mixups here. if you're studying for some sort of history exam, this is the least reliable source you're liable to find. I own just the plot. Happy reading!

thisismostlikelyalinebutpleaseignoreitbecauseitsjustbeingusedtoseparatetheanfromthestory.

The desert heat seemed to roll in waves, uncaring of the breeze that brought the tang of salty air from the open sea. It pressed against everything, drawing sweat and baking the ground. For one who had been living in the deserts of Egypt and Nubia their whole lives, however, it was actually a pleasantly warm day. Even so, as Nile could testify, a spot of shade was always welcome. Currently he was hiding amongst large amphorae of fermented wheat beer, leaning against the cool clay as he waited for his victim to show up. While he waited he would look at his khopesh from time to time and try to avoid reflecting on how he'd ended up doing a simple mercenary job, and yet the topic was unavoidable. Shouldn't the sons of the Med-jai tribes join the Egyptian military to protect the Valley of the Kings at his age? But really, Nile knew why he'd been looked over; he was physically unfit. All his life he'd been shorter than his peers, and so it didn't matter that he was above-average in speed, cunning and fighting ability, he'd always been seen as weak. The Med-jai were supposed to be tall and robust warriors, and he was short and scrawny, a runt in their eyes.

Once the officials had finished choosing their future warriors, he was the only male of fifteen harvest floods left in the tribe. And so, when an Egyptian priest had come looking for a mercenary that could be cheaply hired, he'd immediately been cast out with the clothes on his back, a water skin, all his personal belongings in a reed satchel, the oldest spear they could find, and the khopesh that was now in his hands. The message in the Tribe Chief's eyes was obvious; 'try not to come back'. Hopefully, he would be killed during his mission. As he'd strapped on his sandals and left his family tent for the last time, not even his mother had bid him goodbye. The priest had led him through several stretches of desert, past oases where cattle grazed and tribes lived together, until they were at the banks of his namesake river, The Nile. The priest had told him that he was to kill a certain man who had stolen one of the Pharaoh's precious golden beetles that represented the god Osiris and then bring back the sacred beetle. That evening he'd disguised himself as a priest's apprentice and they had attended a party in honor of the visiting diplomats from the Far East, of whom the supposed robber was a member. The priest had shown him exactly who his target was, and they'd even spoken for a bit, which had allowed him to memorize the man's manner of speech and how he carried himself. The next day he began to trail the man across deserts and grasslands until him and his group of dignitaries were in the very same port city of Suez in which Nile was reflecting, booking passage on a boat that would take them to their home country.

Nile's plan was to wait for the man to walk out to the docks at mid-morn when he would bring his heavier luggage and then slay him and retrieve the Scarab Beetle before he even got on the boat. He knew the man would be alone because he was the only one with a wooden chest. The others either carried their possessions in strange clothed bags or had their servants carry their things.

The squall of a seagull brought him out of his reverie and he quickly looked around. Damn! The noon sun was already making its way to the center of the sky and the fleet of boats that would leave Egypt to go to the East was being boarded. Nile quickly realized he'd lost his chance to kill the man. No wonder he hadn't been picked, apparently he was also air-headed. If the boats were already being boarded, then the dignitaries had already gone aboard at least fifteen minutes ago. And since he didn't have any currency to pay passage with, he'd have to find a way to smuggle himself into the fleet without being discovered. Darn! Why was he always so idiotic! He'd just gone and complicated his own mission even further! And it was his entire fault too.

Nile looked around and nearly panicked until he realized he was leaning on the perfect opportunity. When the harbor men came to load the amphorae, he helped shoulder one, holding onto its heavy handles until he was inside one of the cargo boats. He hadn't counted on the fact that the water would make the boat sway, having never been on a boat except for that time two weeks ago when he crossed the Nile River. The azure water looked murky as it pushed and pulled with the ocean's currents, small waves lapping against the wooden stilts of the dock. The sand that was everywhere made the wooden plank even more difficult to navigate, but at last the beer container was inside. Then, Nile discreetly made his way to the back of the hold and hid, praying to Horuseus that the man who had shouldered the other two handles wouldn't notice he wasn't there.

The heat seemed almost gone now in the dark, gloomy hold, where the only light came in through cracks in the floorboards above his head. Nile was curled up, seeing as the cargo ship wasn't designed for anything taller than a clay barrel. With his ears pressed against the wood, he could feel the rush of the water as it crashed against the sides of the boat, and the swooshing sound it made as it swept back, only to surge forth once more. The sound was actually rather soothing. Nile analyzed his situation once more. Since he was now in a cargo ship on the same fleet that his target was in, he would, at some point, need to leave his current hiding place and go from boat to boat until he found the person he needed. And even after that, he would need to wait until his client disembarked, seeing as how it was rather difficult not to notice a dead person on a small boat. Nile bashed his forehead against the wall of the hold and let out a harsh sigh. No wonder they didn't think he was fit to be a Med-jai warrior! Sometimes he could really mess things up. He didn't even know where this dammed floating contraption was going! Who knew if he'd ever see his home again? Oh, wait. The tribe might actually be happy about that last one. Nile sighed again and resolved to wait until midnight. Under cover of darkness people would be less likely to see him, and he could search in peace.

Damned Pharaohs and Priests and their jewelry; Ra would probably cast him in eternal damnation for that comment but at this point he was beyond caring. As shouts filled the air and the fleet began moving down the Red Sea, Nile closed his eyes and let the sea lull him to sleep.

thisisalsoalinebecausethere'sgonnabeanotheranherepleasereadcuzitsimportant!

So... did you like it? If you did, let me know and i'll continue. the idea is to introduce characters chapter by chapter, and the first person to guess where the fleet's going gets to pick a character to introduce in an upcoming chapter (note that I mean a canon character, not an OC). Remember to review!


	2. Demure the Apprentice

Demure had lived in the Congo basin his whole life. Surrounded by deserts, grasslands, scrawny trees, zebras, lions, giraffes, elephants, baboons, a multitude of other animals, brilliant skies and occasional rains, he had come to love his existence, even if occasionally (every day), he was picked on by everyone else in the tribe for being parent-less and therefore homeless. It didn't matter, he decided at the end of each day, because the medicine man had claimed him as his apprentice, and herbs were one of the few things he was good at, along with wielding a weapon (even though he didn't even have the heart to kill a fly) and throwing things, mainly because of his above-average eyesight. The medicine man had even given him golden rings to pierce his ears as a mark of his station and skill. Really, his existence was peaceful.

The existence of the region he was in, not so much; the tribes that inhabited the basin had been reporting kidnappings of their members, or men of lighter skin tones trying to trade their tribesmen for goods or livestock. Most times people refused, but there had been cases where the chief accepted, and rumor had it that sometimes exchanges took place without the chief's knowledge. And on top of that, the king of the ruling tribe of the Basin region had gone missing, leaving open opportunities for power disputes; the most likely accepted theory was that he'd been kidnapped by the strange foreigners.

Anyways, there was a beautiful sky tonight, and since the medicine man didn't need anything more of him, Demure laid down under brother tree on the outskirts of the cluster of huts that was his village to admire it. There was always a pleasant glow at night thanks to the shine of Sister Moon and her entourage of stars, the departed souls of the land, and though Demure had never learnt of constellations, he enjoyed tracing figures and making up stories. Really, it was convenient that a certain cluster of stars made Sister Moon look like the center of brother scorpion's stinger. He was contemplating just how to put that into some sort of context when he heard a shout. He sat up quickly; after dark the only noises were of families getting ready to sleep, so what could have caused it? Suddenly he heard another shout and a scream; it can't have been good if it sounded like a fight. Demure started running towards the center of the village with a stick that he'd found in hand. If there was trouble, at least he'd have something to defend himself with.

He reached the village center just as a large and thunderous 'BOOM' shook the whole village. One of the tribesmen was falling to the ground, limp, as if the life had been taken from him by Banyale. In the middle of the space surrounded by the shocked tribe, there was a man of skin that seemed to reflect the moonlight with how light it was; and in his large gloved hand there was a child of the tribe. "What happened," asked Demure of the person next to him. The woman answered, "that man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the child, and when Jankoo tried to take the child back, the man took out the stick and pointed it at the man, and there was a loud noise, and then Jankoo fell, and, and," the woman seemed in hysterics, and she was trembling, so Demure held her until she was sitting. As the medicine man had taught him to do if he was ever in this kind of situation, he instructed her to take deep breaths and calm down.

The tribe leader, the most agile warrior of prime age in their village, seemed to be trying to communicate with the odd-skinned man. Suddenly, the man spoke, and Brother Wind seemed to be the only one not fazed by the imposing tone of the man's oddly accented voice. "I take young with me. You oppose, I kill you with this," and he raised the exploding stick that had felled Jankoo, "Bring me youngs!" he roared with his rough speech. The tribe leader replied in a voice just as powerful; "You will not take our children! Leave now before you regret it!" The village men were beginning to shoulder their spears as they realized, one by one, that the exploding stick had killed the father of the child in the stranger's clutches. He wouldn't be leaving unscathed. With a war cry, they charged at him.

Then, the exploding stick was pointed at the village leader, and before anyone knew what was happening, another thunderous noise rolled over the village and the Leader lay dead. The warriors stopped in their tracks. "You do what I say," said the stranger, "or you die." The whole village was shocked, and the men slowly put their weapons down. Their leader had been killed by this stranger, their unbeatable, all powerful leader who had been chosen by Brother Sun and Sister Moon to guide them and protect them! This man must be some sort of god, and they had been punished for their disobedience. No one defied the words of a god.

The crowd slowly dissipated, and the tribesmen, with hollow looks in their faces, went to gather their children. The god had spoken.

Demure stood shocked, facing the man who had so easily offed two of his tribe; how could the gods be so cruel? Both men had women and children who would be saddened by the news, if they had not witnessed the commotion first-hand already. The medicine man touched Demure's elbow, signaling to him that they should recover the bodies. Crouched, with their eyes to the sandy, maroon dirt ground, they neared the stranger until they had grasped both men around the under arms. Then, they retreated as fast as possible without jostling the two bodies to the medicine man's hut. As they left the clearing, parents with dead eyes were beginning to drag out their young children to the man with the exploding stick. Demure saw that the man had brought cord, and as each child was brought before him, the man bound their hands behind their backs with it. Soon they were out of sight of the center of the village and going inside the medicine man's hut.

The first thing they did was lay the bodies against the thresh and straw covered floor to see if anything could be done to save them. Demure brought a clay bowl filled with water from the medicine man's stored supply and a soft woven cloth when asked for those two things, and the medicine man began to clean the wounds. They were punctures, the apprentice observed, as if a lion with a single ferocious fang had punctured both men's hearts. Demure wondered how a man as powerful as their tribe leader looked like any other man with his eyes closed… and then it hit him.

He had seen two men die at his feet, and the shock had numbed him until now. These were two DEAD bodies in front of him! His hands began to quiver and he started to breathe in short gasps. The medicine man looked up from where he was studying the wounds at the strange breathing and saw Demure's dilated pupils and shaking body, and thought, 'Ah, panic attack. Should have expected it, considering,' He took his pupil by the shoulders and shook him until their eyes were even, and brought him against the mud and twig wall of his hut. "Breathe," he said, and once Demure had calmed down, the medicine man left him to recover while he went back to the bodies. Now that the blood had stopped gushing and both bodies were indeed dead –they had been so since the stranger attacked them- he could make out small objects lodged in their chests. He looked around for a tool thin and long enough, and began to pry the objects out carefully, lest they should go deeper into the bodies.

Demure watched his teacher work from where he sat against the wall and was momentarily ashamed of himself. Here he was, a supposed Apprentice to the Village Medicine Man, who had already been commended once for his skill, and yet at his first encounter with a dead body he had crumpled like the woman from earlier. Shame! He was so mediocre; perhaps his parents had abandoned him rather than be shackled to such a weakling.

He looked at the ground to pity himself more, but the medicine man's voice called out to him, "boy, if you're all right, bring me another bowl, I've found something strange in the wounds." Demure looked up immediately and went to do as he was told. The shame faded for now. After all, an apprentice was an assistant first and foremost until their teacher declared their knowledge complete. He had a job to do. He saw that the medicine man hadn't been exaggerating, those were strange objects, and if he had to guess, he'd say they were smelted iron pellets! As he handed the other bowl to his teacher he voiced his opinion, and the medicine man nodded briefly while he rolled the object he'd pried loose into the container, and when he stood up to walk to the side of the other corpse, he said that he thought so too.

The medicine man paused when both the strange objects were in the clay bowl, and then he looked to his apprentice, who had been hovering nearby should he need anything else, and then signaled him over. "Demure, go bring the elder villagers to my hut, we need to discuss what's happened." His apprentice blinked and then nodded, immediately parting the rush grass that covered the entrance to find the Elders. Of course, he figured, if there was no Chief, the power went to the senior members of the tribe until a new leader was chosen by Brother Sun and Sister Moon. He quickly looked up and saw that Sister Moon would soon reach her highest peak, meaning it would be the middle of the night. And yet, Demure didn't feel the slightest bit sleepy when he reached the middle of the village. The stranger was gone, along with all the children younger than twelve rain seasons. However, several babies and children younger than four rain seasons were cradled in the arms of their weeping mothers. Demure went from hut to hut asking any senior member of the tribe that he encountered to meet in the medicine man's hut as soon as possible, and everyone was so somber that not once was he ridiculed. When all the elders had walked or been helped to the medicine man's hut, seeing as he was the oldest of them all, Demure had been thanked and told to get some sleep.

Once again Demure lay down at the base of his gnarled old tree with a sigh, letting the long grass brush his sides. The peaceful atmosphere was gone, and so was his calm. So much had happened in the span of such a short time, and what would happen to the tribe's children? Had the Chief still been alive, he would most surely had sent a group of warriors to retrieve them, but since he was dead and the village was in disorder, who knew how long it would be until an effort was made to retrieve them? That is, if the tribe didn't still think that the vile stranger was a god. Sighing, Demure tried to ease his mind into a sleep that would ultimately be his last peaceful one in a while, however uncomfortable and fitful.

As Brother Sun rose the next morning, the village seemed to wake with it. Though still distraught, the tribesmen came out of their huts and some began their chores. Others wondered about aimlessly. Demure left his sleeping spot to check in on the medicine man's hut, and saw that they were still holding council. Fortunately, by the time Sister Moon was completely hidden, they were finishing. The medicine man caught his student's eye and signaled for him to follow.

The cool morning wind caressed their bare legs and made the tassels of their robes sway as they walked towards the middle of the village once more. The elders had gathered the whole tribe again, and seemed to make an announcement. Once everyone was there, they forged through the general gloom to say what had to be said.

"Our brothers Jankoo and Lion Roar have gone to join Sister Moon in her endless domain. We will lay their bodies to rest in the presence of Brother Sun so that they will forever find their way back to us. Afterwards, a group of our swiftest warriors will track the stranger who took our children from us. Mark our words; they will be back before this moon cycle is over!" The elders had spoken. One by one, they began to intone the chant that would direct the fallen chief and his tribesman to Sister Moon's domain. Elder by elder they raised their arms, one towards Brother Moon and the other to where his sister was sleeping, and one by one they took up the ceremonial chant. Soon, the whole tribe was chanting as they walked to the medicine man's tent. There, two ceremonial staffs were taken and the corpses were bound to them and wrapped in woven cloth, and as this process took place, the families of the deceased brought food and riches to bury with them. The corpses, tied to sticks, were carried in a solemn procession as the chant increased its intensity, so that now it truly seemed as if the tribe was one voice reaching out to the slowly illuminating heavens.

The procession was just starting to leave the cluster of huts when the medicine man reached out to Demure and signaled for him to follow. Demure looked back towards the procession and wondered what the medicine man was thinking; one does not leave a funeral procession, after all. Shaking his head, the young apprentice went after the crooked back of his teacher; after all, he was bound to do whatever was asked of him.

The medicine man's shaggy white hair whipped around as the morning breeze picked up speed. The tall grass surrounding the extremities of the village swayed to its rhythm. If one didn't suspect it, they wouldn't know it was one of the saddest moments of the tribe's history. For the fourth time since last night, Demure found himself at the door of the medicine hut. He should consider finding a closer sleeping spot.

"Demure," said the medicine man once they had both settled down, "The elders and I discussed many things, and we have decided that we need to know what the stars say of our village. We needed an emissary, and you're the only one we can spare in this dire time." Demure's eyes widened. Did that mean… "Demure," and here the medicine man stood to his full height, which honestly wasn't very much taller than Demure's upper arm, "on behalf of our tribe, I give you the task of travelling to Mist Mountain's top to ask the Seers of our fate. Will you do it?" and both knew that the last question was a formality because Demure would do anything for his tribe, and more importantly, his teacher, who had become a parent to him. Demure looked up at the hut's thatched roof, his eyes tracing the beams made of thin trunks that held it up. These missions often didn't turn out well, as travelling alone in the desert was dangerous. And from here to Mist Mountain, there was a LOT of desert. He exhaled and his eyes went to the dark ones of his teacher. "Yes." He said after he too had stood.

"Thank you." The medicine man's eyes glistened as he clapped Demure's shoulder. They both knew that the desert was a hostile place, and that the tribe had just placed its faith in his pupil. Demure knew he could be sacrificing his life by going alone, and the medicine man was proud to say that he had taught such a brave young man. It might be the last day that they spoke to each other, since there was a chance that Demure might die during his mission. The old man shook his head as he gathered herbs and powders in a skin pouch and looked for a staff of suitable height for his pupil. It did no good to dwell on such thoughts, after all. Gruffly, trying to hide his emotion, the teacher told Demure to wrap his arms and legs in bandages to protect them from the sun, and to look under a few broad, dried leaves for a sturdy head cape that he had once used in his younger years. It would serve Demure better now. Then, they went to the hut where the tribe's food was stored and wrapped several pieces of dried meat in a smaller pouch to go with the herbs. Some edible nuts and berries went into that pouch as well. Finally, they got two water skins that Demure could fill at the water hole a day's journey from here that would be on the way to Mist Mountain.

At last, the medicine man looked up at the boy to whom he had taught almost all he knew, with his shoulders draped in a thick cloth that he could use to cover his head if there were too much sun, a staff of sturdy wood that would serve as both a walking stick and a means of defense, a pouch with medicines, food, and water, and a robe whose sleeves were held tight by wrappings, and that was long enough that it went to the knees, from where his calves were also wrapped in bandages. Lastly, Demure had reinforced his sandals with several leather straps so that they wouldn't chafe or slip off. The medicine man handed Demure a map and said, "Tell them that Rafiki sent you."

With a final farewell and a hug, Demure was soon cloaked in the Basin's tall grass and on his way to the sandy desert.

So, second chapter. EquestrianTillTheEnd, thanks for reviewing, and for complimenting my writng. Now, I saw the visitors graph, and I know for a fact that more people read the first chapter. The cookie prize still stands, and the character selection still stands, but you people have to review to win! The person to guess who shows up next chapter gets to pick the name of the boat Nile's on. Thanks for reading!


End file.
